Flight 221
by The4thFate
Summary: Captain John Watson is on his way home from Afghanistan. During his flight he becomes very intrigued with the genius young flight attendant who will be catering to him for the next eight hours. Rated M because it's unfinished and I don't know exactly how things will end between the two.
1. Take Off

Captain John Watson was just boarding his flight back home in London. It would be a long eight hour flight from his station here in Afghanistan. His nine months of service just came to an end and he was less than excited to get back to England.

Walking around the airport he got a few odd looks. Full army gear will do that, no matter where you travel. He was accompanied by a handful of other soldiers who were headed toward London as well and the group eventually found their correct gate.

All the guys swapped stories as they waited around; sharing who they missed the most, what they had planned for the next few months, and how all their friends and families would be celebrating their return. John kept quiet during these conversations however. His family wasn't too close with his parents separation and his sisters drinking habit. He didn't have many friends either, and those he did have were quite distant. Watson envied his mates because, to him, Afghanistan was home. For now, however, he kept his mouth shut and played along.

An hour later the plane had been fueled and secured for takeoff, so boarding began. A young man with a thick London accent came across the speakers, "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, flight 221 to London will begin boarding now, all platinum members are welcome to step to the front of the line at this time. Thank you."

The soldiers made up the back of the line with Captain Watson pacing up and down. He didn't mind being the last one on board if it meant he could stretch his leg a bit. He'd been shot earlier in his career and had almost completely healed save for a frequent pain in his leg. Gold and silver members were loaded on respectfully, but the majority of passengers still remained. Watson finally joined the end of the line and as he turned to face front he glanced at the attendant behind the counter. The young man also happened to be glancing at the officers and he acknowledged them over the speakers, "all members of the military services are now welcomed to board the flight with uniform and I.D."

The men walked up to the front of the line as they quickly pulled out identification. There were a few boys lined up for the female attendant so John walked over to the man behind the counter and showed his papers there. The attendant was only a few years younger than the Captain but the dark curly locks and tall lankiness accentuated his youth. He smiled at the soldier and looked over his credentials. "Captain John Watson, a pleasure to be flying with you today. I see you are a doctor with the army; impressive intellect and brave hero. Good to have you with us." He smiled brightly again, and ushered him to the entrance.

John walked towards the plane door in attempt to psych himself up for the next eight hours of mild discomfort, boredom, and complete lack or personal space. Hopefully everyone would be as pleasant as that flight attendant.

* * *

With the plane now fully boarded the Doctor found himself sitting towards the back of the plane between a mother and her three month old son, and an old woman who liked to tell long elaborate stories that all ended with a message about 'repent your sins to Jesus Christ or risk eternal damnation'. This was going to be a long trip. Everyone quieted down, however, when the young man's voice came down from the plane's inter-com.

At the front of the plane in the main aisle was the guy from behind the counter. He introduced himself as William and quickly went over the safety guide. He did not look as happy as he did at the desk. In fact he looked quite bored which contributed to the world's most summarized safety talk. After William wrapped up, the pilot's voice came down and relayed the time and weather there in Afghanistan and in London. He shared a few basic estimate on time and started the engines.

Doctor Watson closed his eyes and pressed his head back into the seat as the passengers started up again, but before they began taking off a hand shook his shoulder. He started to scowl at the young mother beside him before looking to recognize the dark haired man standing above him. The attendant was smiling again and asked the Captain of he would like to be moved up to first class where an empty seat was waiting. John very happily accepted and followed William away from the old woman's comments about how the devil is taking over the music industry.

On the other side of the curtain were large leather seats and much more leg room. John turned to the man and gratefully admitted, "Thanks a lot William, I don't know if I could've handled sitting between those two for the whole ride!"

William grinned back, "It's my pleasure doctor, and ask me if you need anything else", he turned to walk up towards the main cabin but stopped halfway and walked back. "All my friends call me Sherlock, by the way".

This time when he turned away John could've sworn there was a wink. Not to be outdone, the soldier called out after him, "you can just call me John." Sherlock turned around and smiled again quickly before he walked out of view.

* * *

John had watched out the window during takeoff and witnessed the buildings and cars and people shrink down into nothing. Eventually the plane became enveloped in clouds and now looking outside was no different than staring at the white wall of the cabin. The change in altitude didn't have much effect on the doctor. He'd been stationed all over the place in the past and had become used to the sensation.

The pilots voice called out again informing the passengers that they had reached 30,000 feet and were leveled out for the rest of the trip. The seatbelt signs shut off and the buzz of noise behind the curtain grew.


	2. 30,000 Feet

Now that everything was stabilized the food and drink tray began making it's way down the aisle. Starting in first class, naturally, it reached John in just a few minutes. With a long day full of busy people Captain Watson decided he could use a drink. As the attendant paused beside him John smiled into the man's face remembering his unusual name. "I'll have a scotch whiskey blend along with a grilled salmon sandwich, if you don't mind."

"My pleasure, John." The dark haired man smiled slightly as he finished up with the drink. He set the cup down on the tray and locked eyes with the soldier, "is there anything else I can get you?"

John looked into his eyes and his words stuck to his tongue. There was something so intense and mysterious about this flight attendant that his mouth struggled to catch up.

"Mmmm... No. Nothing else."

Sherlock pushed the cart and bit further and asked the next gentleman what he might enjoy.

John still felt strange. Something about that man focusing all of his attention onto you was unnerving. His eyes were bright and full of color, but they looked past John's face and into his head. At least that's what it felt like.

A few short minutes later another attendant came over to deliver the sandwich. What Watson really wanted wanted to eat was a warm order of fish and chips from back home in London, but the sandwich would have to sufice for now.

He sipped at the drink until the edges of his mind were fuzzy enough to dismiss the piercing eyes. Sherlock was actually quite attractive. His dark curls falling just slightly into his pale angular face. He was tall; taller than John at least. He seemed bored with the passengers in general, but quite amicable when speaking with John, and so the soldier decided that he was a good guy. This man Sherlock was nice, and so was sitting in first class, and maybe life back in London wouldn't be as rough as last time. John had generally optimistic thoughts as he finished his drink. Now feeling a little better about leaving Afghanistan and the warmth of alcohol in him he stretched out and took a nap.

* * *

About an hour later John woke up to some slight turbulence. An attendant, not Sherlock this time, was hurrying up and down the aisle reassuring everyone that it was fine and reminding them to keep seat belts on until it passed. The crowd seemed a bit tense, but at least they had quieted down some. John took the opportunity to pull out the skymall catalog and skim over the outrageous junk.

About halfway through, just after flipping past the glow in the dark toilet seats. John realized that he'd never paid for the drink Sherlock served him. As the reassuring attendant walked back up to the front of the cabin John grabbed her wrist and asked if she would send William back. The woman looked confused but agreed to pass the message on. Sherlock had been nothing but nice to the soldier and now John looked like a real asshole.

A few minutes later Sherlock emerged looking slightly annoyed. "What can I help you with, John?" He asked politely, but rushed and with teeth gritted.

"Sherlock, I never paid for the sandwich earlier and..."

The attendant's gaze softened and he interrupted the doctor, "I've taken care of it, no worries. Now is there anything else, because I was just in the middle of something."

"I'm all set here - thanks for that Sherlock. I owe you one." And just like that the attendant was gone again.

There was a good half hour lull in the plane. Most were sleeping or reading, but John stayed up puzzled over Sherlock's business. Captain Watson became restless. He read through each magazine available - including the safety pamphlet - and now there was nothing to distract his mind from the rushed young man and the possibilities for his hurry. Maybe the turbulence was a sign of a larger mechanical problem and they would all plummet to their deaths, maybe Sherlock and the female attendant were having a moment, maybe there was an outbreak in London and they wouldn't ever get back; there were too many maybe's up in the air for John's taste. A small part of him wanted to push the assistance button just to see what was going on up there, but he knew that would be childish. It was probably nothing, John new, the an uneasy feeling was dragging through his gut.

So he rose to use the lavatory located just next door to the cockpit to indulge in some snooping. Sherlock was just leaving the pilot's as John entered the tiniest toilet ever. In his passing gaze however he saw the flash of a gun from under the attendants jacket. As the doctor relieved himself all he could think about was this mysterious, and now dangerous man.


	3. An Explanation

John quickly washed his hands and left the broom closet with a toilet. Now he was on a mission to stop Sherlock before anyone got hurt. He felt good despite the seemingly awful situation. He had a goal to follow and half a in mind; this is what he was made to do. He marched down the plane through all of first class and whipped the curtain back as he re-entered the business class. He passed an air sick kid, three separate men talking into Bluetooth headsets, and his old friends; the young mother and old woman. He was not distracted from problem, however, and his pace only increased as he neared the rear of the plane. Here, past the lavatories, was the kitchen area where the attendants also hung in their downtime. Sherlock was alone and had his back to John - seemingly on his phone. With no time to lose John shut the door behind him and quickly grabbed the man by the shoulder and jacket slamming him up against the wall. Bracing both of Sherlock's arms so that he couldn't reach the gun he barked into Sherlock's ear, "What the hell are you doing with a gun!? Do you realize with one shot we're all in trouble, yourself included?"

After moment of surprise the attendant replied, "Yes of course I know that John, I'm not stupid!" John wrenched the other man's arm around his back and pushed up.

"Ahh! John just hear me out here. You owe me one remember?"

"Talk." The army captain knew better than to let the man keep going, but he interest won over his military training.

"My brother Mycroft basically runs the British is government, and so as a favor to him I am out doing what he refers to as field work." He stated with mind disgust, "The pilot of this plane is named Andrew Heirshfield and he has been under government watch for some time now. Now that I am here undercover, however, I was easily able to find evidence of his crimes and am now updating my brother who will bring him down." He ended his story with a half grin on his face.

"I'm I supposed to believe that?" John laughed.

Puzzled, Sherlock added, "Yes, you can call my brother or D.I. Lestrade of Scotland Yard of you really don't believe me."

"I think I will," John retorted as he grabbed Sherlock's phone with one hand, maintaining his grip on Sherlock with the other. He may be smaller than the attendant -or whatever he was- but he was much stronger.

Watson dialed up the number that the last text had been made to. The voice that followed was dripping with annoyance and supremacy, "Sherlock I really don't have time for this, did you or did you not find the evidence?" John took a second to register before opening his mouth to question the man when he spoke again.

"This isn't Sherlock, so I'm assuming you are some brave passenger who believes they're stopping a criminal. I can assure you that although my baby brother is very certainly a criminal, he is not in this circumstance. I suggest that you return to your flight and forget this ever happened in order to stay on good terms with my department. Any questions?"

"No, I think I've got everything." John did not mean that at all. He had a million different questions, but he figured that Mycroft was not the sort of person you bother unless on the brink of death. He let go of his hold on Sherlock and handed back the phone. The taller man rubbed his shoulder and looked the soldier in the eye. It wasn't a glare; he wasn't angry. It was the same look he gave after pouring the drink where he looked into John's thoughts. And what he found he trusted.

"You have a streak of bravery, doctor; I like that. Now you should probably return to your seat before our plane makes an emergency landing in Turkey."

"Right," John quickly escaped the confusing and slightly humiliating situation.

* * *

John only had to sit in embarrassment for a few short moments before the pilot, Andrew Heirshfield, made an announcement to his passengers.

 _"_ _I'm very sorry to report that we will be making an unexpected landing in Istanbul, Turkey. Some unforeseen weather conditions have been observed and we have strict orders to land immediately. Remember, our safety is our number one priority. The airline will also be covering all ticket expenses that may arise. Again, we are sorry for any inconvenience that this may be, and will do our best to make you comfortable."_

John was half surprised; Sherlock's story had all been true. The mystery of the man grew ever larger.

There was a lot of groaning on board, but with no way to change anything, everyone seemed pretty accepting of their fate. John felt a bit nervous, however, in anticipation of how the arrest would go down. He assumed it would be an arrest, although maybe Sherlock was in a secret branch of government like MI6 and they just assassinated all of their enemies. There was also the strange feeling in his gut about what kind of criminal had been flying him around for the past four hours. Full of questions John sat at the edge of his seat with eyes wide until the plane came to a final halt down on the tarmac.

As the hoards began to slowly exit out of the plane John fumbled around with nothing hoping that if he lagged behind enough he might witness the take down. Soon he was the last one remaining and a tired attendant was encouraging him to hurry up. Reluctantly John headed toward the door only to find Sherlock there exit greeting. There was a sly grin on the taller man's face as he winked at the doctor. Right before stepping out a hand pulled him back inside and against the wall. Sherlock leaned down and whispered, "Stay here. Don't move." before quickly returning to his post at the door.


	4. Detained

John, tucked against the wall just out of sight, felt a rush of adrenaline that calmed him just as much as it set him on edge. He didn't know if Sherlock even had a plan, but he was willing to run into the situation full speed ahead. Some part of the mysterious man had earned the doctor's trust. The doctor's sense of adventure was being filled, and who knew how long it would be until this happened again.

The cleaning and maintenance crew made it's way inside as the flight attendants began gathering their own belongings. With all heads down and eyes busy Sherlock had no problem escorting John out of the corner and up to the cockpit door with him. Right before entering Sherlock pushed the gun into John's hands and mouthed the words, "cover me".

John's hands wrapped around the cool firearm and there was a small realization of how much trouble he could be getting himself into if this didn't work. He held it steady, however, and covered the man in front for reasons even he didn't fully understand.

"Job well done Andrew, I have to say, I'm quite impressed"

"I'm not too thrilled to be making this stop, but weather can't be stopped"

"Oh, you've misunderstood me Andrew. I'm not impressed by your piloting, but rather the amount of time you've eluded the government"

The man furrowed his brow but there was no change in his eyes, "I'm not sure I understand William."

"Oh, I think you do," Sherlock stated smugly as he pulled a few photograph from his pocket. He casually flipped through them as he continued talking, "We've known about your work in the terrorist network moving money around for quite some time. It's very easy to move around the world when it's in your job description. It might have been genius if only you hadn't been so stupid. You've gotten lazy Andrew," Sherlock got right up in his face, "but the problems was that there was no hard proof until I discovered your system for using passenger luggage..."

The pilot's face contorted in anger and fear and he reached back for his weapon. Before his gun was fully drawn, however, the pilot felt the cold pressure of a pistol on his own temple and he froze. John was using everything fiber of his being to hold back and not blow the man's brains out. The army doctor has a very short fuze, and this man life was not safe in his hands. The littlest thing could set him off at this point. This man was one of them - one of the bad guys - and he needed to be eliminated. The seconds of silence felt stretched as each person in the room realized what was happening. Heirshfield's rage melted away into pure fear, and Sherlock raised his brow in surprise while opening his mouth saying nothing. John's face did not change.

At that very moment the atmosphere flipped and they found themselves in a room that seemed more dull and bleak; Mycroft entered the room.

"John please put that gun away before someone gets hurt," he sighed. Surprised at the sudden change in the playing field, the Captain did as he was told. The look of confusion on his face was shared with Mr. Heirshfield, and a disgruntled Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Always so impatient Sherlock; your accomplice almost got carried away." There were a few disapproving tuts and a look around the cabin. "So where exactly did you find the cash, brother?"

"Here is one of them," Sherlock hauled out a olive green duffle with the initials J.H.W tied on the side. He unzipped the case set aside a few tightly folded shirts and removed several large stacks of cash. "There is sure to be more in the rest of the passenger luggage." He handed the evidence to the older brother and whisked out of the room, "Come along John."

Sherlock walked quickly down the ramp towards the terminal as John rushed to catch up behind him. The younger man seemed to be unfazed by everything that had just happened back in the plane, but the same was not true for the Captain.

"Sherlock what the hell! You just pulled thousands of dollars out of my suitcase and you haven't even slowed down. I would like some sort of explanation for what just happened." John's voice had gotten louder as he became more exasperated, and a few glances were thrown his way from around the terminal.

The 'attendant' replied in a more quiet tone, "What is there to explain? The man was smuggling money - your suitcase happened to be used - I caught him in the act and now Mycroft will handle the rest." He hadn't even stopped walking to address the doctor.

There was a silent pause in the conversation which John ended by suggesting that they eat dinner before finding how to make the rest of their way home. Sherlock agreed to this, but didn't seem overwhelmingly keen on eating anything himself. The doctor sat down to a large meal and a strong cup of coffee, but Sherlock seemed satisfied with just a cup of tea.

After many questions from John and a few semi relevant answers from Sherlock, they were able to put the Andrew Heirshfield's case in the past. They quickly moved on, however, to what they should do about their own situations. Sherlock was, begrudgingly, in the country along with his brother and small taskforce, and was assigned to fly back with them. This meant that he was spending the night there in Istanbul. After hearing Sherlock's travel plans, John began to contemplate staying back for the night as well. The airline and airport opened up their on-location hotel to the passengers of flight 211 in an effort to ease their discomfort. John told Sherlock of this plan and began to make his way to a customer service desk and reserve himself and room when Sherlock got up and stopped him.

"John do you have any idea how small and crowded that room will be? I can assure you that you would be much more comfortable elsewhere. My brother has several suites already paid for tonight, and if you don't mind sharing a room then you are very welcome to come along."

John, who was quite exhausted at this point in the day, saw very clearly that Sherlock's option was much more appealing, and agreed to go along with the Holmes brothers.


End file.
